Heartbreak Hill, or as the flat landers refer to it, Mt. Heartbreak. It provides part of my daily cardio workout.

March 15, 2016 - Tuesday
39 degrees/cloudy/calm
Pentoga Road

Mmmm, I could live on these Halo/tangerine-type thingies that have flooded the supermarkets for the past several weeks. They're easy to peel, juicy, sweet, and fun to eat.



The southern strawberries are beginning to filter in. Though they look similar to those we pick from our own patch, when it comes to flavor, they are merely a cheap imitation. Still, who cares? They are fruit, somewhat fresh, and again, fun to eat.

I remember meeting bush planes in the arctic, those that were rumored to be carrying fruit to a village store. Unless one was right there to purchase a very expensive apple or orange, he would have to wait until another grocery flight arrived. People lined up for the opportunity to purchase one piece of fruit.

I once traveled over twenty miles on snowmobile solely for the opportunity to buy one apple. As I remember, I paid something like four dollars for a half rotten piece of fruit... and worth every single cent. After one has gone an entire winter subsisting on moose, caribou, fish, instant mashed potatoes, oatmeal, rice, dehydrated veggies, and powdered milk, the craving for anything green and fresh becomes almost unbearable. I wrote a story about that whole episode, but that's for another time.

Page Two:

My walk went well Monday morning. It was warm and it seemed as though all the old, retired, people who live along the lake were out working in their yards. Naturally, I would wave and give out a shout and they would do the same. Problem was, they'd walk over and want to catch up on the senior gossip of the day.

By the time I got to the end of the lake, those people were asking what the others at the opposite end were doing. In this age of instant access, social media, let alone the old-fashioned telephone, I was playing the Pony Express rider of information... and happy to do it. Being one of the younger, older retired people, is something I proudly claim to be and if being an information carrier is part of my job while walking, then that's what I'll do.

After arriving home almost an hour late, I hopped in the car and drove to town for homemade bread and thread sealer to use on the air compressor. A quick stop was made to see Yooper Brother Mark. His secretary, Ann, is on vacation this week and I wanted to make sure Mark hadn't gone too far astray.  

The compressor went back together as it should, although I did make a few mistakes in its reconstruction. Still, after an hour or two, the thing was purring, making pressurized air, and I actually used it yesterday afternoon. Check that one off my list.



The rest of the day was spent working up wood. I'm happy to report that the east wood shed is completely full and ready for next winter. 



The back pile is almost gone and after I clean up today, a new pile will be started and the wood used for fires made two winters from now.



My back has been hurting. I tend to ignore such things, but it's not only hurting, it's crying Uncle! I broke the thing in the arctic years ago when I slipped on the snow and wearing only a t-shirt and underwear, (I was shaking a rug) fell against the sharp edge of a step. 

The doctors recommended an operation, but I was entirely too wise to let them do such a thing. In fact, against all advice, I was back on a snowmobile, riding hundreds of miles, just three weeks later. I was a super hero  of Alaska Native education on a mission. All you had to do was ask me.

The last thing one of the doctors said was that someday, I'd pay for my brazen courage... or in hindsight, stupidity. I laughed, shook his hand, thanked him, and rode off into the sunset on my snowmobile. I knew it all. Who ever said being the super hero of education was difficult? Yeah...

So, after swinging a twelve-pound maul all day Monday, I was almost crippled by late afternoon. I found myself stopping every few minutes and sitting down, shifting my weight from one side to the other, doing almost anything to relieve the pain. I gobbled Ibuprofen like candy and even hung upside down on the inversion table. Nothing helped.

Sleep was nearly impossible last night. Poor Sargie was up at 1 AM getting the heating pad, but even heat didn't help. 

Thankfully, I made an appointment yesterday with a chiropractor for this afternoon. The only other option is going to a regular MD who will refer me to a back specialist who will then give me over to a surgeon who will want to operate. Other than one instance, everyone I've ever known who's gone under the knife for back surgery has come out worse than when they went in. 

Then there are the pain pills and medication. Being a recovering everything and a crusty old veteran of 12 step programs the world over, I don't take anything stronger than Ibuprofen or Tylenol. Even cough syrup is off limits. How does one deal with modern medicine and stay away from the pain medication? He either suffers the pain, becomes extremely meditative, or bites the bullet. At this juncture, I'm not willing to do any of them. Hopefully, the chiropractor can pop something or the other and make the pain go away. If not, I'll ask Mom to make it better. She worked miracles when I was a little boy, maybe she has some mommy magic left in her bag of tricks.

Whine whine whine... listen to me this morning.

Page three

Sargie was home early last night, well before dark. I fixed smoke pork loin and mashed potatoes and gravy for supper. Mmm, it reminded me of one of Mom's Sunday dinners that she used to make each and every week. I went to bed before the clock could chime nine times and Sargie joined me shortly after. The rest is history.

The petunias are germinating and growing in one of the inside greehouses.

Sargie closes tonight, another long day for her. I'm going to walk my usual five miles then use the tractor and clean up the rest of the old wood pile. Yooper Brother Mark will be calling one of these days saying the trailer is full of wood and I want to begin the pile anew. 

Other than the doctor's appointment this afternoon, the only other thing on my agenda is to invent zero gravity flight or possibly take a nap. Both involve the same amount of deep thinking on my part. 

After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

That extension cord has always been so kinky that it was nearly impossible to use. I stretched it a full fifty feet on Monday and let it hang for several hours. That took the kinks out!